


Lines

by dornfelder



Series: The Road So Far [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: The thing about lines is that sometimes they’re drawn for you. And you’re not even aware that there’s an option to re-draw them. If you’re not actively striving to do it, then it’s quite possible that you spend your life driving firmly on one side of the road and it rarely, if ever, comes to your mind that the median isn’t a law of nature, isn’t necessarily how it’s meant to be.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Road So Far [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035993
Kudos: 8





	Lines

**Author's Note:**

> This is not going to make any sense unless you've read the script because it's really just one of the scenes from Dean's POV, starting right in the middle. So I absolutely recommend reading "The Road So Far" first.

“See,” you say softly, your anger fading, “and here’s where you’re wrong. Because it’s not for you to decide what I feel or don’t feel.”

He flinches a little. “What?” 

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of choice, Dean,” he says, so fucking serious, and for a moment, you want to laugh because it’s all too similar to what you said to Sam on the road only hours ago when he kept babbling about _lines_.

And Sammy may have had a point, but … 

Well, the thing about lines is that sometimes they’re drawn for you. And you’re not even aware that there’s an option to re-draw them. If you’re not actively striving to do it, then it’s quite possible that you spend your life driving firmly on one side of the road and it rarely, if ever, comes to your mind that the median isn’t a law of nature, isn’t necessarily how it’s meant to be.

You see people drive on the other lane. You see people cross the median, and you don’t spend more than a fleeting moment wondering what that would be like. It’s just not something you do, especially when it's John Winchester who first explained the concept of driving to you.

But right now as you’re looking at Cas, it’s almost funny, and both anticlimactic and disconcerting, to discover that the line you were so acutely aware of when talking to Sam no longer exists.

The thing is, at that moment, back on the road, you hated that line. Hated the thought of having to tell him no. Cas, who’s never asked anything of you – not for himself, in any case. He wouldn’t ever ask. And you hated that too, the sure knowledge that Cas would never even try. 

In a way, you were right, and so is Cas. But what he doesn’t know – what only became clear to you the moment you finally laid eyes on him again, when something settled in your stomach, heavy and undeniable – is that whatever line it was that you thought you couldn’t cross, the moment you saw him sitting there, you just needed it to _not be there_. The way you need to breathe and eat and sleep, the way you need to make sure that Sammy will be okay, no matter what. It isn’t something you’d like, the way you’d like the world to be free of monsters and bad guys and flat tires. Not something you want, like pie or Baby’s steering wheel under your hands. But something you crave, in a way you weren’t aware you could. 

You needed that line to be gone and then it was, obliterated at the very sight of him.

“No”, you say to him as he stares at you. “No, it isn’t. I can’t make that choice. Because it already happened.” You shake your head, struggling to find the right words – to describe that monumental shift inside of you. “I don’t know when or where. But it did. I was just too damn stupid to work it out.” 

Cas narrows his eyes, tilts his head to the side. “What are you trying to say?”

It’s so _Cas_ that for a second, you’re nearly swept away by that rush of fondness – this impossible man. You could _try_ to explain, but you had enough of that today with Sam, and the last thing you want to do is make another declaration. 

So instead, you close your eyes and let yourself imagine it, for the first time – or maybe not, come think of it: for a second, you recall the faint memory of watching him talk, against the backdrop of a blue summer sky, of wondering, faintly, what his lips would feel like under yours, a thought fleeting and unacknowledged yet crystal clear in in your memory. But it’s only now that you permit yourself to think of it, of walking over to kiss him and feel his heartbeat under your hand. And when it really hits you, a wave of _longing-excitement-arousal_ , it makes your head spin.

You take a deep breath. Open your eyes and let yourself look at Cas, with that new awareness.

You can’t look away. 

“Cas,” you say. Just saying his names fills you with an anticipation that makes your heart beat double time.

He hesitates.

Oh, right, he doesn’t know, does he? He won’t know what hit him. 

This, this you know how to do. It turns out it’s not difficult at all. 

This, you’ve got down. 

You keep your voice low. “Come here.”

It’s a lot to ask of him, at this moment, but you know – you know it without a single thread of doubt – that he will come. Because he always comes when you call. Because he loves you, in this all-encompassing way you can’t wrap your head around, filling you with a glow that hasn’t entirely left you ever since he said it.

Cas slowly takes a step toward you, then another. And that glow, it starts to spread, fills you up and threatens to spill out of you, only that you don’t want to know what’s going to come out of your stupid fucking mouth once you open it, so you let it pool low in your stomach instead, let it turn into heat. 

“So you _haven’t_ had those kinds of thoughts about me? You sure about that?” you say, and from the way Cas is looking at you right now, you’re willing to bet that he hasn’t been entirely truthful. From the way Cas is looking at you, he’s been having _precisely_ those kinds of thoughts and probably feels ashamed and guilty for it. 

And then he’s there, right in front of you. “I …”

You put a hand on his neck, brush your thumb over his ear, cup his head. Pull him close, breathe him in. Kiss him, make it soft and just a little wet and endlessly sweet. Feel the way he opens to you and then melts into the kiss. 

Cas. Oh god, _Cas._

There’s nothing you want more, in this moment, than to keep going. To let it all escalate, light the fuse and let it blow up.

You break the kiss, rest your forehead against his. “Fuck,” you whisper, in wonder. “Cas.”

“Dean. Was that – do you –?” 

Cas is human now. It shows in the way he’s softly shaking. In his labored breathing, the way his fingers, on your shoulders, are trembling. 

Fuck. He’s human, he’s _yours_ , and you’ll have to go slow. Treat him right. Show him all the ways you can make him fall apart. And you already know how. You know _precisely_ how. You’ve got _ideas_.

You pull back so you can look him in the eyes, stare in wonder at the way his eyes have grown dark, the way he looks at you with that burning intensity that has probably always held a hint of desire but is only now turning carnal.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do. Cas. I _do_.”

And you do. This truth was hidden inside of you, for how long, you don’t know. It’s that moment when you look into the rearview mirror, seeing everything in a blur, and wonder how you got to this point, but really, it’s all moot. You can speculate as much as you want on whether you’ve always been closer to crossing this line than you knew. Or whether it never existed in the first place. 

Not that it matters. It’s just, like, a metaphor. The line was there until it wasn’t, and the road ahead ... well, it looks better by the minute.


End file.
